Just Give Me The End
by TheResurrectionist
Summary: In the year 2017, a man stumbles out of purgatory with no name, no memories, and a knife.
1. Chapter 1

A/N This is the birthday prompt for if-llamas-could-fly! The original prompt will show up in the second chapter (Which I'm still not done with) so this one is going up first. Happy birthday, honey! Hopefully this fic lives up to your expectations. I had tons of fun writing it.

Thanks to my beta, as always, for the hand-holding and cheerleading, along with putting up with crazy half-finished drafts sent at strange hours. And thanks as well to SirVacuumTheThird, who tells me to STFU and write when I complain.:)

Title: Just Give Me The End  
Word Count: So far, around 5k. This is the first half.  
Summary: In the year 2017, a man stumbles out of purgatory with no memories, no name, and a knife.

* * *

He doesn't flinch when the portal lights up around him, burning through even his eyelids as the winds whirl and roar. It isn't until his feet hit ground again that he even realizes something's changed.

Opening his eyes, he finds himself in a forest. Night had fallen, darker than it was where he'd escaped.

The hunter had left behind gray for black, and it's no surprise that the gray is more comforting-at least you could see what was coming at you there. Wherever he is, it's dark, so shadowed he can barely even sense his hand in front of his face much less see it. This land is cloying, like darkness trying to wrap around and into him, and the man takes a startled step backwards into the new surroundings as something shifts to his right.

His blade is out lightning-fast with a soft snick, made just loud enough by the flick of his wrist to make it a warning to whatever's there. Back in the gray, your weapons communicated more than you did. The sharp slide-scrape-snick of metal was your proclamation to all: Back off.

He smiled wolfishly as the creature shifted places, circling him in a way that the man assumed meant it was attempting to be stealthy. Its every move whispered across his senses, making up for his blindness as he turned with every crunch and rustle. He couldn't see his blade in the dark, but knew the flesh-slide-fall feeling of it in his hand. It fit perfectly, silently humming in his hand with the heat his body pumped out in anticipation.

The hunter heard the low coil of muscles before the creature even jumped, spinning silently and slicing down with his knife before the animal could bare its teeth.

Whatever creature it was shrieked, convulsing as he drove the knife down deep into its body, twisting expertly into the spine. The death throes passed soon after, leaving warm bloodstains down the man's long arms.

He breathed heavy, wiping the back of his hand across his dirty forehead. Circling the corpse until he was sure it didn't have an angry mate, he knelt to examine the body blindly.

Callused fingers searched carefully up and down its neck, running over the shape of the skull and back to its paws swiftly. He didn't recognize the shape of the arms, but the jaw felt familiar to something he'd hunted before, though he couldn't be sure.

Standing in one fluid movement, he considered his options. It was rare he ever had a moment to think, much less consider the next move. Down in the gray, it had been quick-twist-run for so long, long enough that it was all he remembered. The forest in front of him, while not being the gray forest of always, was familiar. Something breathed easier inside of him at the feeling of cool, damp dirt under his boots instead of the gray dust and branches of the other world. He knew before looking up that the sky would be endless, dark like before but shattered with tiny specks of light so brilliant it nearly blinded him.

When his focus returned, he turned. There was a path out of the forest to the left, long but a fairly easy hike. He could tell by the sounds the animals made, shifting around it in warning, like it was a danger.

Hunkering down instead of following it, the man couldn't help but agree. The outside world was always dangerous, no matter where you were.

* * *

He spent the rest of the night curled up with his back against a sheet of rock nestled between two ravines. Practice and mistakes had taught him to stay away from trees, where the others could slip down and trap you in a heartbeat. You learned to stay away from the holes that would grow arms at night and drag you down, down so quick you couldn't even scream.

No, if the other world had taught him anything, it was to keep your back against something and your weapon in front of you. Sleep was a hair trigger away from an attack, and finding the balance between constant adrenaline and sleep had never been hard for him.

Nothing else disturbed him that night, save for the moon. After about two hours of wait-quick-rest, a cloud had shifted, revealing the bright orb.

The hunter wasn't sure how he even knew its name, just knew intrinsically when its rays hit him that moon was its name. His eyes had watered at first, unused to the bright light. After a minute, he'd opened his eyes to slivers, confused and slightly unnerved by the full light. It was a perfect circle in the dark sky, calling to everything around him. If he'd had to guess, the creature he'd killed earlier had been under its spell, a slave to it in more than one form.

The hunter could feel it pulling to him in a way the other night sky hadn't, but reused to move. The moon would stay full for a few more days; escape or hunting could happen then.

Animals ran when they were scared. Something you picked up.

The sky began to lighten a few hours later, becoming such a familiar shade that the man nearly gasped. He threw a hand over his mouth, berating himself for almost giving his location away.

The brightness had been gradual, called sunrise if he remembered-knew-didn't, and this time his eyes didn't water. The gray became a different shade, going pink-blue until the whole sky was like fire, so much more colorful than the gray of before that he almost sighed in relief, settling back against his perch to wait.

It was strange, watching the world change around him, but it seemed oddly familiar too, so the man stayed nearly content as he waited for the day to turn.

Two more nights and he could move.

* * *

The next night found him curled up again, moving during the day only for food. This forest was strange, and there were no challenges when he left. Actually, since the creature last night, nothing else had even crossed his path.

His nerves twitched a little at that, and the knife stayed out.

The second night had passed uneventfully; quiet save for the scrape-slide of a creature's paws on the ground. The hunter smiled again as he realized it was similar to the creature before. Changes aside, this was something he knew how to take down.

Oddly enough, this one stayed away from him. He felt it make circles around his spot, but never crept near enough. It seemed to be chasing smaller prey for some reason.  
The next morning, he found the bones scattered by the river. A few rabbits, some birds. Bones were almost all that was left of them, little tufts of fur or feather clinging to the blood covered pieces.

He buried the mess in wait. The last night was when it would come for him.

The third night, a new creature entered the forest. The hunter had been meditating when it came, quickly sliding up into a ready stance when he heard its footsteps.

It was a human, like him, but it hunted as well. He watched as it circled his area much like the creature of before, something shiny held in its hand.

He didn't remember why he knew, but the object was a gun, and he knew to stay away from the end the human was pointing at him.

Humans hadn't lasted long in the gray, so the hunter had never gotten a chance to study one before. Curious, he followed it around once he realized it wasn't tracking him.

This one was tall, muscled nicely and strong. He could feel its heart beat even from where he was crouched, healthy and firm. Long hair covered its head, making the hunter reach up and pat his own hair. Long hair was a liability he hadn't been able to afford before. Hair was a weakness, an easy grab away from getting your throat slit, confusing the hunter why this human kept his this way while hunting.

The human in question was tracking something, reading the forest expertly and moving as quietly as he deemed possible. After two hours of watching, the hunter realized he was hunting the creature from before. Opening up his senses, he noticed its proximity, instantly grabbing his knife and standing unnoticed behind the other hunter.

Damn. He should've noticed this sooner. The human wouldn't stand a chance against the beast, not with just a gun. Bullets wouldn't stop this creature, not ever.

As if he'd heard the hunter's thoughts, the human strode forward silently, gun at the ready. The hunter could hear the beast circling, ready to pounce. The human's breathing increased, but he stayed silent. Suddenly, the creature pounced, and the hunter winced as the human moved a fraction of a second too late.

Stepping forward, he watched the fight. The beast had tackled the human, rolling onto it with jaws snapping. Amazingly, the human had an iron grip around its neck, holding back the sharp teeth with his hands alone.

Raising his eyebrows, he ran over, driving the knife into the beast's spine like he'd done the night before, twisting until it fell limply onto the human.

The human in question looked up at him under the corpse with wide eyes, looking catlike in the low light. He was still breathing heavy, but his heart rate had increased after the fight as well, leaving the human almost hyperventilating under the creature.

"Dean?" The human asked, eyes going even wider. The hunter took a step back, confused. The human strained under the creature, pushing it off of him in a Herculean display of strength.

"Dean!" The man cried, getting to his feet quickly. The hunter took a couple more steps back, weapon against the human's throat in an instant.

Confused eyes met his again, but the human didn't move. The hunter held his knife against the jugular vein lightly instead of slashing straight through it, startled by the human's reaction.

"What…what are you doing, Dean?" The human asked, hands held out in front of him slightly. He looked confused and terrified, as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" He questioned sharply, speaking aloud for the human's benefit. The human frowned, tilting his head before wincing as the sharp blade cut slightly into his skin.

"Calling you what..Dean. C'mon. Tell me you remember me."

The hunter stepped forward, keeping the knife on the human's throat. "Why would I remember you?" He asked, only partially putting on a show. He was truly curious now, and the human in front of him was the most interesting thing he'd seen in three days.

"What are you then?" The human asked bitterly, tone darker than before. The answering push from the knife silenced him again for a few seconds.

"You're a hunter." The human grit out, staying still.

"True."

"But you don't remember me?"

The hunter paused, running his eyes down the human's face. "No."

Swallowing, the human blinked a couple times. "Alright. So what do you remember?"

"I want to know why you recognized me." He said instead of answering, pressing the blade slightly into the human's throat. A small drop of blood appeared, but the human didn't cry out.

"I didn't." The human gasped out. "My mistake. I thought you were someone else."

The moonlight reflected over his eyes, but while he seemed genuine enough, the hunter knew he was lying about something. Curiosity getting the best of him, he pressed the knife in deeper.

The human didn't gasp this time either, simply taking a breath and closing his eyes. "What do you want?"

The hunter answered after a second, giving very little thought to his new plan. The human might not tell him now, but he could find the answers later. It was nowhere near his best plan, but that strange look in the other man's eyes looked like a way in.

"I want to come with you."

"Come with me?" The human asked incredulously. "What for?"

The hunter released the knife, sliding it back into his sheath with one fluid movement. He looked over at the corpse of the creature from before, glancing back to the human.

"You don't seem too successful on your own." He stated firmly, watching the human glance at the beast before walking over to pick up his fallen gun.

The other man rubbed a hand up its barrel before speaking. "You don't remember what's out there."

The hunter smiled. "I'll learn."

Tilting its head again, the human threw him a curious glance. "What's your name?"

The hunter barely though before answering, throwing back the most honest answer he'd ever uttered.

"Hunter."

* * *

By the time he'd walked back with the other man, Hunter had accepted his name. It fit almost perfectly, and just hearing the human say it made something resonate within him. It seemed as good as any other name, maybe better.

They reached a black car parked at the edge of the forest, hidden behind trees and brush. The tall man climbed in gracefully, casting Hunter a strange look as he followed.

Hunter walked over to the passenger side of the door, placing a hand on the door before opening it. The sensation was strange, but he could almost see himself doing it a million times, grasping a handle just like this.

Leaning into the car, he settled in the seat, deep down reveling in the feeling of the cushions. In front of the human, though, he perched slightly, unable to put his guard down.

The human gave him another strange look before starting the car, a low rumbling noise echoing around them. Silence reigned as they started off down the small road, soon reaching the asphalt that the hunter knew ahead.

* * *

Once they hit the highway, Hunter turned an eye towards the human, who almost seemed more on-edge than he did. His hands gripped the steering wheel until the knuckles turned white, furious eyes staring sharply out the windshield.

"What's your name?" He asked after a second, knowing this was what was considered polite here. The blood suckers down in the gray had taught him that, spinning memories together for those who had to listen before their lives were ended. The hunter had lost count of the times they'd lamented their humanity before leaning forward, eager to rip him to shreds.

Lucky he'd always been faster than them.

"Sam." The human replied, tone eerily calm for the set of his shoulders. Nothing more was said, and Hunter wasn't going to change that.

* * *

Sam drove them to a motel a few miles over, grabbing a key from his jacket as he clambered out of the car. Hunter did the same, curious but still edgy.

The door opened without much ceremony, and Hunter followed Sam into the dark room. Trying to get a feel for the room, he barely noticed the knife as it appeared against his neck, a parody of their earlier meeting.

Sam held the knife expertly, fluid and graceful stance bracing against Hunter. Amused, he tried to flip out of the hold, surprised when a strong, disembodied grip held his whole body in place.

Sam motioned with a hand, making the lights flicker on. The door closed softly behind them, clicking shut. Hunter stared incredulously at Sam, who held a hand out, holding him down. The knife dropped momentarily, but Hunter kept a wary eye on it.

"Oh, this is great." He said sarcastically, using humor to cover up his assessment of the situation. "What are you? Why don't I ask you that question first, _hunter_. What's a demon doing hunting?"

Sam's face twisted, and the knife reappeared, sharp against his neck. "I'm not going to ask again. What are you?"

Hunter leaned forward, sneering when the knife caught against his throat. The power that held him down dissipated, making him internally smile. Sam was getting arrogant.

"Human, but I'm guessing you already knew that." He replied calmly. The demon frowned at him, though, and shifted a little to the left with the knife.

"What's that supposed to mean?" The demon asked, stepping just a little bit forward again, voice low.

Hunter took his chance, spinning out of the knife's reach in a flash and grabbing the iron chain from his jacket. He caught Sam with it, pulling down until he had it tied around the man's neck.

"Why are you after me?" He hissed in its ear as it choked, hands drawing to the chain in a vain attempt to remove the pressure.

"I have to admit the fake hunt was smart." He said when the demon didn't reply. "Playing weak so I would help you. You demons." He sighed, shaking his head. "So tricky. Well, guess what?" He asked, spinning so Sam's body faced him. Leaning forward, he talked directly to the demon inside of the human.

"I'm done being puppy chow. Go trick someone else, bastard. Because, let me tell you, I have hunted _far_ worse than you could ever dream of being."

Sam's eyes began to bug out as the lack of oxygen began to get critical, and Hunter knew he wouldn't last long. Still, the demon tried to form words, whispering out something even Hunter didn't catch.

"What?"

"Not...a...demon." Sam rasped, face panicked. Hunter looked down at the iron chain in confusion, noting the lack of burns and steam. Releasing the chain, Sam fell to the floor as Hunter paced the room around him, wary of the human. When Sam got his breath back, he placed hands on the floor around him, coughing harshly.

Hunter couldn't find any pity for him.

"So what are you then?" Hunter asked cockily, circling the man. "Shapeshifter? Witch?" He eyed Sam. "I'd have to say the powers don't go very well with your hair, though."

Sam stared up at him in confusion, bruises already appearing around his throat. He coughed before speaking.

"Neither."

Hunter quirked an eyebrow, unperturbed. "Then what?"

"Human." Sam coughed out. "One hundred fucking percent."

"Those powers don't look all that human, buddy boy." Hunter replied, coming to a stop in front of Sam. Leaning down, he placed his own knife against the man's throat. "Tell me."

Instead of the fear he was expecting, a grin met him. Sam leaned forward a little, eyes bitter.

"I ran into a demon a couple years ago. This was his thank you present."

"He gave you blood?" Hunter asked incredulously, shaking his head. "Afraid to say that's still not human."

"Oh, I know that." Sam said, nodding as much as the knife would let him. "Took a vacation somewhere hot and had it carved it out of me. This is what's left."

Hunter felt a strange pang of disgust at the bitterness in the man's eyes, but dropped the knife. Letting Sam get up (but not helping) he took a step back.

"So this is what you do." Hunter said, thinking out loud. "What is it, some kind of penance?"

Sam shook his head. "It's more than that." He said harshly. Hunter just nodded, incredulous.

"Here's my ground rules." He said, throwing a hand out. "We hunt, we kill, we keep moving. You use those powers on me again and I kill you as well. Got it?"

Instead of submission, Sam narrowed his eyes. "Here's my counter," he began, palm facing up. "I don't use my powers on you, and you tell me what you remember."

"I said I didn't-"

"I know what you said. That's my offer."

The finality in his tone was unmistakable.

"Fine." Hunter grit out, slamming a hand into Sam's waiting palm. They shook slowly, eyes on each other. Hunter frowned when a smile broke out on the other man's face.

"What's so funny?" He asked as he took his hand back. Sam sighed, bitter humor appearing on his face.

"Back in the old days, people shook hands to show the other man they didn't have a weapon on them." Sam said with a smile.

"I suppose that's changed." Hunter said, bemused by the strange outburst. He turned towards the door, unsure of their sleeping arrangements.

"You can take the other bed." Sam said as if he'd seen the indecision on his face. "There are two."

"I can count." Hunter spat back. A surprised, choked-off sound echoed behind him.

"What?" He asked Sam in confusion, anger forgotten.

"It's nothing." Sam said, rubbing a hand over his face. "It's just, for a second you reminded me of someone."

The emotion in the other man's eyes was too much for Hunter to look at, prompting him to turn away.

"I'd better hope not."

Humans were strange.

* * *

Hunter slept well the first night, odd considering all the extra threats he now faced. The knife stayed in his hand all night, though, and he was up before dawn.

Sam had slept uneasily, tossing and twisting in the sheets until the whole room felt off. The other man murmured a few words that the hunter couldn't catch, but the name before was one he recognized. Hunter counted two nightmares before he woke the man up at seven. Sam sprung up with a gasp, knife out at Hunter in an impressive display of reflexes.

Or paranoia, depending on your point of view.

"Back off." Hunter growled, and Sam dropped the knife with an embarrassed expression.

"Sorry." He said sheepishly, eyes vulnerable from sleep. He got up quickly, grabbing some clothes to change into.

They left for breakfast a half an hour later, Hunter with his knife in his coat and Sam with a wickedly sharp pair of curved daggers that even Hunter was impressed with.

Breakfast was quick, coffee and protein eaten over the day's newspaper. Sam perused it mechanically, flicking Hunter strange looks over his coffee every now and then.

"Tell me you had something lined up after last night." Hunter finally said, leaned back in his seat to watch the door.

Sam made a non-committal sound into his coffee, placing the mug down. "Not then, but I think we have something over in Illinois." He said, gesturing at the paper.

Hunter frowned. "What's in Illinois?" He asked, leaning forward to look at the paper.

"Not sure." Sam said, flicking a thumb on the corner of the paper. "Definitely sound like our kind of thing, though. You did say you wanted to come along, and this is what I do."

Hunter didn't reply, quickly scanning the national paper. The article was short, stating that a series of strangulations had occurred in Illinois, with police still looking into the details. It seemed odd that it would appear in the large paper, but Sam spoke before he could ask.

"One of the men who died was in solitary confinement. There was no way he or anyone else could have strangled him in that room."

Hunter nodded. "So, off to Illinois?" He asked, grabbing the last of his coffee as Sam nodded.

"Yep. Should be a couple of hours in the car, though. You good?"

"I'm good. Let's just get started." Hunter replied, getting up from the table. He was about to follow Sam out the door when someone brushed up against his back, making him flinch and reach for his knife.

A strong, disembodied grip on his wrist was the only thing that stopped him from stabbing an old lady walking by. Sam was already at the door, shooting Hunter a dangerous look. Hunter furiously put the blade away, waiting until they were outside to yell at Sam.

"What the hell was that, man?" Sam yelled at him first, waving his hand at the diner. "You were gonna shank grandma or something?"

Hunter closed the distance between them, grabbing Sam and slamming the taller man into the side of the car. Sam's eyes flashed dangerously, but he let Hunter do it. The reflexive urge to put Sam down now and there surged through him, but he kept the knife in his pocket.

"I thought we agreed on this." Hunter spat at the man. "No powers. _Ever._"

Sam glared at him, staying completely still. "You were going to stab someone innocent. In _public._ Doesn't that even bother you?"

A small fission of shame went through him, but Hunter held his ground. "No. It doesn't. Everyone's a threat."

Releasing Sam, he walked over to the passenger door. "You'll do well to remember that."

Hunter heard a snort. "And that doesn't sound dramatic at all." Sam said as he hopped into the driver's seat.

"Tell me more about what we're going after." He said, changing topics as Sam started the car. Hunter swore he almost heard it purr, but he shook his head and focused on Sam.

"Still not sure." Sam said, frowning. "The strangulations have all occurred in places where nobody else was. The victims have no connections as far as I could tell, except that they all lived in one town."

"So we'll have to do some ground work."

"Yeah. You good at dealing with...people?" Sam asked.

Hunter frowned. "As in talking to them?"

Sam nodded, hands still on the wheel and eyes on the road. "I want to know if you can actually interact with someone without stabbing them." He said dryly.

"I can try." Hunter said uncertainly. "But that's as good as you're gonna get."

The other man sighed, but finally nodded again. "Alright. We'll make good time to Illinois if this traffic keeps up." He reached forward, turning the radio on. Classic rock sounded from the speakers, all strong guitars and drums. Sam tapped his fingers along to the beat on the wheel. Hunter put his hands over his ears and tried not to see the hurt expression that flashed across Sam's face.

* * *

Sam turned out to be right, and they ended up in Illinois after only a few hours in the car. However, a few hours to Sam was like days to Hunter, and the small cabin of the car combined with the looks Sam kept sending him nearly drove him crazy. He couldn't remember the last time he hadn't had miles of space at his disposal-even these last few days in the proximity of many people had had him itching to spring his knife out. Sam's face from the diner kept appearing in his mind whenever that itch appeared, though, so it stayed hidden.

They checked into the motel without any hassle, two queens and a suspicious smelling stain their property for the next week. Sam placed his duffle on the bed, grabbing a change of formal clothing before going into the bathroom to change. Hunter sat on the bed, scoping out the room silently as he changed. A floor room, two windows. It wasn't that bad, but Hunter wondered how Sam subjected himself to something like this all the time-entrapping yourself, when you were the one hunting. It would drive him crazy on his own.

Sam came out of the bathroom in a suit ten minutes later, hair gelled back until he was almost unrecognizable. Even his face was set in an official-looking expression, eyes sharp and mouth tight. He tucked a badge into his pocket before glancing at Hunter.

"You gonna be good while I check up on the first victim's family?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows. The official facial expression disappeared, and Sam looked at him like a kicked dog for a quick second, as if Hunter were calling the shots. The flash of betrayal was gone when he nodded, standing up.

"I'll be back by sunset." Sam said, not bothering to leave a phone number or any way for Hunter to contact him. He walked out of the door coolly, face set in a formal expression once more. Hunter almost wanted to call after him, but there was no point. He didn't care-shouldn't care, at least. Sam was keeping secrets, and Hunter wanted to find them out. This _emotion _was a weakness, and should be treated as one.

He had just stood up to close the curtains when a wave of pain hit him, driving him to his knees on the shitty motel room floor.

Gasping, he held his head in his hands as wave after wave drove through it, making his vision go white and his stomach roll. He was no stranger to pain, but this drove deeper. He felt like his head was on fire, and every thought jabbed at him like a knife. It was almost too much to bear when a shape began to take form in front of him.

A ghostly image was standing in the room above him, see-through and pale. It was gesturing wildly, silent words shaped from its lips. Hunter stared at it in confusion, startling when he recognized the face.

A younger Sam stood in front of him, arguing viciously with an unseen person above Hunter. He threw a hand out, screaming something as he pointed at the door. Hunter lifted his head painfully and turned to see the other person.

A tall, youngish blonde man faced him, features familiar in a strange way. Green eyes shone out of a pretty face as he replied calmly to Sam's silent scream, hands at his sides in defeat. He said something softly that made Sam flinch, but the younger man still put a hand on the door.

_I'm leaving _Sam's lips read. _I'm doing this, Dean._

Dean didn't reply, and he left, opening the door with such finality that it made something in Hunter's stomach drop. The other apparition looked on mournfully with him, watching Sam's younger self leave the motel room. The ghost made its way through the door instead of out of it, walking down the steps angrily. Hunter fought with himself and the pain until he stood up, desperate for some reason to see the other man.

Sam's ghost began to flicker as it walked out of the motel, finally disappearing after ten feet. He felt tears well in eyes, as if this were some death instead of an insane hallucination. When Hunter turned finally around, he found Dean's ghost right in front of him, inches away.

The same pain was reflected in the face in front of him. Dean stood tall, but every movement screamed defeat. He didn't blink as he looked at Hunter, the perfect mirror to the strange emotion in the room. Mournful green eyes stared at him before hardening, and with a final wave of pain, Hunter fell to the ground, darkness swallowing everything.

* * *

A/N Second half coming soon! Happy belated B-day, if-llamas-could-fly! I hope you had a very special birthday!:)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N First off, I'd like to inform y'all that I lied. This was supposed to be a two part fic, then got rewritten, scrapped, rewritten again and completely thought over. Here is another installment, with more to come. Thank you so much for your reviews!

* * *

He woke up on the floor, pain still driving nails through his head as he staggered to his feet. Sunset's first rays were shining through the motel's window, and Hunter glanced at the clock to see a long time had passed. He'd been unconscious for almost two hours, maybe more.

Sam was due back any minute, but Hunter could barely focus on the hands in front of him much less the parking lot. Images kept flashing through his head, quick-fast-sharp, and he knew they weren't his.

Down in the gray, mind tricks were always the worst kind. Mental stability was never a given, sure, but iron clad will wasn't always sane, anyways. Hunter had learned a long time ago to never let the thoughts of others mesh with his, and had always kept his mind on the prize.

The prize being survival, that is. Now, he wasn't sure what it was.

He was still staring at his hands as he sat on the bed when Sam's car drove into the parking lot, black paint gleaming in the dying sun. Steeling himself in more than one way, he stood up and greeted him.

"What'd you get?" He asked as Sam climbed out of the car, shirt unbuttoned and tie loose. His suit coat was in one hand, a bag of food the other.

He watched Sam for a second, opening himself up cautiously to the memories. This Sam was much older, broader and stronger than the younger one, he decided. The hair was longer, but less messy, framing a strong jaw and angled cheekbones. All the baby fat was gone, and small scars were visible on his hands. Cool hazel eyes stared into his briefly, just as expressive as the younger Sam's were.

"A lot." Sam replied, walking past him and into the motel room. "Family saw a lot of things before the vic went down. I think I know what we've got."

Hunter followed, closing the door behind him. "You only saw one family?"

Sam shifted minutely, almost unnoticeable as he unloaded the food onto the table. Chinese food made an appearance, scent halfway between appetizing and processed in Hunter's mind.

"I had some extra time, headed to a couple vic's houses. Pattern was the same everywhere." Sam said before grabbing a carton and sitting down. His shoulders were still on edge, as if the one question had brought up something bad. "I didn't do anything else."

Bemused at the guilt on the other man's face, Hunter nodded. Cataloging the other man's discomfort and filing it away for later, he sat down, impatiently gesturing at Sam. "Go on. What are we hunting?"

Sam blinked at him for a second before frowning and pulling out his laptop. Shooting Hunter the same half-curious, half-confused look from the past few days, he spun the computer so he could see.

"Buruburu?" Hunter asked, sounding out the name slowly. "Never heard of it."

"It's a kind of ghost. Born from a terrifying manner of death, they usually haunt the ones involved and force them to die in the same manner." Sam explained, waving his empty fork towards the computer. "It explains the manner of death. You can "catch" the ghost if you're near the person they're haunting, meaning anyone can get it."

"Nasty." Hunter conceded, turning the laptop back to Sam. "So, all the vics died from strangulation, right?"

Sam nodded. "So, someone got strangled and decided to come back and haunt the murder. Question is, who?"

Hunter shrugged. "Small town, right? How many strangulations occurred before these deaths started up?"

"I'd have to look it up. It would have to be recent, though. Here, gimme a minute."

Sam put his food down, expertly grabbing the computer and typing swiftly. Hunter shrugged again and grabbed the bag, looking inside at the food. Sniffing lightly, he smelled peppers, ginger and meat. He tentatively opened the first container, frowning at what he saw there.

"I got you a simple stir fry." Sam said, eyes still on the computer. "Not sure what you wanted." He said in explanation, but Hunter could almost see the forced nonchalance in his voice. Grabbing a fork, he sat down again just as Sam made a happy noise.

"Got something?" He asked around a mouth of surprisingly good stir fry. Sam nodded, turning the computer again.

"A teenage girl was murdered last month before the deaths started." Sam started, reading off the report. "Andrea Lowe, 17, strangled in an alley after sneaking out. Police have no leads as of now."

Hunter nodded. "This sounds right. Extreme manner of death, young girl with a world ahead of her. So now we find the murderer, right?"

Sam shook his head. "We don't usually find the murderer." He said, and Hunter noticed the use of we with a strange twinge.

"Usually if you salt and burn the bones, the problem will go away. In this case, I think it will." Sam said, rubbing his face tiredly.

"You don't want to stop this guy from killing again?"

Sam sighed. "I just want to stop what I can. Hunting down a murderer is the policy's business."

Frustrated for some reason, Hunter grabbed his dinner and ate silently. He didn't know why it bothered him so much that Sam wasn't going to hunt down the killer. The pounding of blood in his ears told him he could do it in a heartbeat, but he quelled his anger.

"So let's go question all the victim's families again and find the connection. See if they saw anything, or if someone else is acting weird. Maybe one of them caught it too." Hunter said finally, breaking the silence.

"Alright." Sam said. "We start at noon tomorrow. This time you're coming with."

Hunter frowned. "I thought you didn't need help?" He asked, carefully modulating his words.

"I'm gonna need back up." Sam said, not looking at him. "Also, one of us might catch it. We're gonna need to be together on this, okay?" He asked, almost appearing anxious for a second as he tapped his fingers on the table.

Hunter nodded reluctantly, absently twirling his stir-fry around. "I don't have a suit." He said absently. Nor did he really want one.

"I have one for you." Sam said, eyes back on the computer. Hunter shifted, getting up and laying on his bed.

Sleep didn't come quickly, a pair of familiar green eyes haunting his mind all night.

* * *

"Who is it?" A voice called from behind the door, weak through the heavy plywood.

"FBI, Ma'am." Sam said smoothly, face instantly transitioning to collective coolness. "We just have a few questions."

The door opened quickly, making Hunter take a step back in surprise. A small woman stood on the porch, red rimmed eyes and disheveled appearance evidence of her mourning. A large pink robe engulfed her small frame, covered by a white scarf wrapped around her neck.

"Mrs. Lowe?" Sam's mouth twisted into a small, perfectly sympathetic smile. He held up his badge, nudging Hunter until he flashed his as well.

"Agent Gramm and my partner, Agent Turgon." Sam said, putting his badge away. "We're here following up the death of your daughter."

"I don't understand." The woman said, rubbing a hand across her face. "There were already agents here a couple of weeks ago."

Sam's smile never wavered, but it tightened fractionally. "Like I said before Ma'am. Standard procedure involves a follow up. Just some simple questions. Do you mind if we come inside?"

The woman seemed to consider them for a second, Sam's earnest smile and Hunter's silence obvious. Finally she nodded, tightening her robe around her body before stepping inside. Sam gestured for them to follow with a subtle hand movement, instantly picked up by Hunter.

The house they entered was dimly lit, filled with a musty smell Hunter didn't care to name. Mrs. Lowe led them to a small sitting room off the hallway, sitting down slowly as Sam and Hunter took the couch opposite.

After waiting the perfunctory few seconds, Sam spoke. He leaned forward, earnest expression on his face.

"Mrs. Lowe." He began, voice pleasant. "Why don't you just start with what you told the other agents."

She nodded, absently twining a hand in her scarf. "Andrea snuck out a lot. Like all teenagers, you know? But I never said anything because she was always safe, got good grades and stuff. There wasn't a lot she could get up to here anyway." She said, gesturing towards what Hunter assumed was the window. Sheets covered everything in the house, mirrors and picture frames layered in fabric. Even the doorways had sheets over them.

"So when she went missing last month..." Sam prompted, shifting slightly against Hunter's leg.

Mrs. Lowe swallowed. "I guess she'd met some friends I didn't know about. It was a Saturday night, and she managed to get down to the bar four miles away. The police..." She broke off, putting a hand over her mouth.

"Take as much time as you need, Mrs. Lowe." Sam said reassuringly, eyes wide with sympathy.

"The police called me when they found her body the next morning." She continued after a second, voice shaky. "They never found the person responsible."

Sam nodded, waiting a second before speaking. "That's what we're trying to do, Ma'am. Finally solve this."

He continued, a meaningless line of questions to distract her as Hunter searched for anything off about the woman.

Hunter shot him a well-hidden glare as he settled in. Who was Sam to make a promise like that when he had been so adverse to it before?

Sam looked back just as sharply when there was a pause in the conversation, no doubt in his eyes. As far as Hunter could tell, the man wasn't lying. He raised his eyebrows, silently asking if something was wrong.

He realized, however, that someone smelled of fear. The whole room stank with it, yellow and acidic, as if anxiety had leaked into the physical world. Hunter focused on the woman, seeing the shaking hands and the nervous posture. Gesturing with his head, he tried to clue in Sam.

Sam caught his movement as he was standing up, in the middle of excusing themselves. Flawlessly handling the new information, he turned to Mrs. Lowe again.

"Is there anything else you may have left out when speaking to the other agents?" Sam asked politely, "Any additional information would be extremely beneficial, Mrs, Lowe. Anything about Andrea, perhaps? Was she, an excuse me for saying this, but unhappy? Was something going on?"

She shifted, once again pulling at the scarf around her neck. Curious, Hunter nudged Sam lightly with his elbow.

_What is it?_

A voice echoed inside his head, Sam's voice but somehow deeper, more resonant. Barely controlling a flinch, he focused in the idea of the scarf.

_I want to see underneath it._ He thought towards Sam. _She's hiding something._ He said, trying not to be freaked out by Sam's additional powers.

Sam kept a cheerful smile, waiting for Mrs. Lowe's answer. He nodded at Hunter minutely, small frown wrinkling his brow in concentration.

"No, she was very happy. never complained. I don't have any other details." She said shakily. "I'm sorry."

He smiled at her, getting up. Hunter followed, curious how Sam was going to handle seeing under the scarf.

"That's fine ma'am. Thank you so much for your time." He said as they walked towards the front door. Sam's frown tightened as they neared the door, and it opened unbidden.

Wind blew in, stronger than it had been before they'd walked in. Mrs. Lowe's scarf flapped, dangerously close to unwinding.

_Now's your chance._ Sam said into his mind. _I'm going to unravel it a little, see what's underneath._

Hunter nodded, and as he watched the scarf was tugged slightly, revealing the woman's neck. Hunter heard a sharp inhale from Sam as time slowed down.

In the split second it took for the scarf to fall, Hunter saw everything  
Bruises circled her neck, black in the middle and a deep purple on the edges. Two handprints were visible, large enough to span her entire neck.

Time sped up and Mrs. Lowe grabbed the scarf with a squeak. Sam pretended not to notice, flashing her a small smile as they stepped out the door.

"Thank you so much for your time, Mrs. Lowe."

The door slammed in their faces, effectively cutting off that conversation.

Sam turned to Hunter as they walked back to the car, polite facade dropping instantly.

"Were those bruises? I only got a quick glance."

"Seems like it." Hunter replied, thankful to be out of the fear-covered house. "She's obviously caught it, whatever it is."

Sam nodded, oddly silent.

"Is there a cure for...ghost sickness?" Hunter asked as they got in the car. Sam started the ignition, already loosening his tie with one hand.

"You have to burn the remains of the ghost." Sam said as they drove. "Meaning, you me and a shovel are spending some quality time in a graveyard tonight."

Hunter stared at him for a second before shaking his head. "Fine."

"Fine." Sam said, and a sudden pain ripped through Hunter's head as the words left his lips. Ghostly images like the vision before lanced through him, and for a second he saw a different Sam in the rear view mirror, arguing with the blonde-haired Dean from before. Green and Hazel eyes met his in the mirror.

_I'm not getting the salt this time, Sammy. _Hunter heard Dean say. The images weren't really speaking out loud, as if they had already been spoken.

_You're bigger. It's not fair! _Sammy replied, long hair covering his face.

_Hey, your turn. Grow up a little bit. You'll get tall one day. _Dean looked amused, but a small trace of pride was in his eyes.

_Fine. _Sam muttered, folding his arms.

_Fine. _

Hunter gasped as the memory released him, slamming his head back into the headrest. Sam was staring at him with concern out of the corner of his eye, a frown forming.

"What was that?"

Hunter shook his head. "Headache."

"Pretty weird headache." Sam said, not letting it go. "Looked sort of painful."

"Speaking of headaches." Hunter said, noticing the tension lines in Sam's face since they'd left the house. "I thought you could only move things with your mind, not read them too."

"I can do a lot of things." Sam said bluntly. "I wasn't aware I needed to give you the whole list. And since when were we all sharing and caring, huh? You haven't done your part of the deal yet, either."

Hunter breathed out, frustratingly sending a glare towards Sam. "And I thought I told you I didn't remember anything."

"Yeah, and why don't I believe that?"

Hunter made a sound of disgust, turning to face the window of the passenger side.

"Let's head to a bar, chill out for a little." Sam said after a few high-tension moments of silence. "We can't get digging until dark anyways."

Hunter nodded but said nothing, settling deeper into the seat back.

It didn't feel like the right seat, for some reason.

* * *

The bar Sam ended up choosing looked like any other bar down the street, dirty loud and dangerous, in Hunter's opinion. Sam strode in like he'd done this a million times before (And maybe he had) and sat down at a table in the back. Pulling out his laptop after ordering, he settled in with none of his usual politeness. The waitress, whose eyes had been flashing with appreciation a second before backed off with a disgusted sound, walking back to the bar with an angry tilt to her mouth.

Hunter decided to avoid the hurricane that was Sam and grabbed a stool at the bar, waiting for night to fall. The sun was still shining brightly, so he steeled himself for a few hours of drinking.

A few hours (and beers) later, Sam was still bent over his computer in the corner. Hunter had worked his way through cataloging all of the people in the bar, one by one until he determined no immediate threats. He knew it wasn't normal, not what others did, but instinct overruled a lot of things and this just happened to be one of them.

A large part of him wanted to go over and apologize to Sam, to make that frown disappear and tell him everything, but that was selfish and dangerous. So, life became watching the bar, something that kept him on edge and unsettled the whole time.

Around four o clock, when even looking at people had become tedious, a hand touched his shoulder lightly. Thinking it was Sam, he turned around slowly.

"I hope you don't-" He cut off as a woman took the stool next to him, flashing him a flirtatious smile.

"Hope I don't what?" She asked sweetly, gesturing for a beer.

Hunter became silent, unsure of what to do.

"Oh, that's rude." The woman joked. "Going all silent on me. Not even gonna tell me your name?"

He looked her up and down, quietly shifting out of the defensive stance he'd been in the last four hours. She was dressed in a pink top, a short skirt over tan thighs and lip gloss. She leaned forward, flashing cleavage at him.

"None of your business." He said, partially disgusted. Apparently, that only seemed to encourage her more. She ran a hand along his leg.

"That's alright, I like a man who's hard to get." She murmured, flipping her hair as she leaned back. He looked away, sharply considering the bar. "Sure you won't tell me your name?"

He turned to her, getting impatient. "What did I say before?" He asked coldly, finally allowing some predatory sounds into his voice. She couldn't be scared away with metal-slide-grace, but words could be just as effective here.

"You didn't."

"And I believe there was a reason for that." He spit out. "Get lost."

She gasped. "You don't mean that!"

He glared at her, eyes narrowing. "Do I need to say it again, _bitch?" _He asked, letting the word slip out with every sense of the meaning emphasized. He was the predator here. Not some woman with an over inflated sense of worth.

He didn't bother to look as she stormed off, throwing her bottle at him. He heard it whistling towards his head and caught it, placing it on the table. Awed stares met him, and Hunter decided enough was enough. Grabbing his coat, he stalked to the back of the bar. Slamming a hand down on Sam's computer, he nearly growled his next words.

"We're leaving."

Sam's startled face shifted to anger before settling in on confusion. Looking around, he noticed the stares of the crowd.

"Fine. About time to leave anyways. You didn't drink too much, did you?"

Hunter shook his head as he walked Sam out of the bar, staying close to his side. Sam stumbled slightly when they got to the door, pain flashing across his face.

Hunter grabbed his arm, concerned. "What?" He asked, noticing the hand Sam put to his neck.

"Nothing." The taller man said, straightening. "Cramp from sitting so long."

They walked to the car quickly, getting in and driving off before anyone could come after them. Sam drove off with a frown but turned the radio on, grabbing the sheets of paper with the cemetery's address.

"Northwoods Cemetery." Sam murmured. "Here we come."

* * *

A/N Agh, I know! It's not done yet. Leave me a review anyways?;) Next part should be up soon.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N So I got an urge to write, but it wasn't for the fic I expected to be writing for. Thanks to my beta as always.

* * *

_"About time to leave anyways. You didn't drink too much, did you?"_

_Hunter shook his head as he walked Sam out of the bar, staying close to his side. Sam stumbled slightly when they got to the door, pain flashing across his face._

_Hunter grabbed his arm, concerned. "What?" He asked, noticing the hand Sam put to his neck._

_"Nothing." The taller man said, straightening. "Cramp from sitting so long."_

_They walked to the car quickly, getting in and driving off before anyone could come after them. Sam drove off with a frown but turned the radio on, grabbing the sheets of paper with the cemetery's address._

_"Northwoods Cemetery." Sam murmured. "Here we come."_

* * *

Northwoods Cemetery ended up being nearly ten miles from the bar they had been eating in, but Hunter enjoyed the peace and quiet driving offered him. Sam rolled the windows down halfway through and sped up a little, blowing cool air through the cabin to relax them both.

By the time they got to the cemetery, Sam was surreptitiously rubbing his neck again, long fingers brushing against the skin every other second. Hunter narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything, deciding to keep an eye on the other man. They unloaded the back of the car quickly, grabbing salt, gasoline and shotguns.

"Rocksalt rounds." Hunter said appreciatively, cracking the gun open and admiring the bullets. "You make 'em yourself?"

"Yeah." Sam muttered, flashlight in hand as he bent over the map of the cemetery, mouthing the names of the plots to himself. It seemed to be taking longer than it should have, but Hunter didn't remark on it.

Hunter took that time to lean back and take in the night, opening his senses to the empty graveyard. Small animals shuffled in the brush off to their left, but other than that it was quiet. He pushed his shovel into the earth, feeling the sharp metal break the dirt like rotten flesh. He grimaced at the metallic scent of the decomposing odor that rose up a second later.

"Found it." Sam muttered, snapping Hunter out of his thoughts in a heartbeat. He leapt up in a sharp move and started off, long limbs propelling him easily down the asphalt path. Hunter wasn't sure whether to be confused or accepting of his lack of reaction and instinct towards the man and berated himself for not being on guard. Grabbing the duffel bag, he followed the other hunter, boots soundless on the path as they stalked into the boneyard.

Sam navigated them through three sections of plots before they found the right grave, twisting between stone sculptures and gnarled trees with ease. Hunter couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine at the sight of a small, stone baby nestled in the arms of an angel. It was eerie-pale and alien in the low light—and it invoked something inside of him that, a long time ago, he might have called fear.

The angel's eyes followed him as they came up to the headstone and threw their supplies down. Sam and Hunter both grabbed the shovels and set to it, wordlessly splitting the ground and digging in.

The amount of the sheer sweat and work that went into the grave astounded Hunter, and by the ease Sam displayed while digging, it wasn't the first time he'd been subjected to this. Every shovel was a stretch and heave as they made their way down, minutes blurring into hours as the metal bit into his palms and the coffin was finally unveiled.

"Brace yourself." Sam said darkly as he raised the shovel in the air, slamming it down to split the wood in one powerful thrust. Hunter leaned forward as Sam cleared the shards away, impersonally curious.

Andrea Lowe's body was only just beginning to decay, swelling in some places and bloated to the point of splitting in others. Curly brown hair surrounded the disfigured face, running down her shoulders to brush the top of a white, lacy dress. He noticed the high neck, but the body was too bloated to take a peek at the strangulation marks he knew were there.

Hunter gritted his teeth as the smell hit him, sharp and disgusting to his oversensitive nose. He looked over to see Sam merely lifting an eyebrow at the corpse before turning and climbing back out of the grave. Boosting himself up, he took one last look at the coffin before grabbing the gas.

Sam started the salt at the same time, the two of the working in near perfect tandem as they walked around the hole, cans in hand. The gasoline made a sickening wet sound as it hit the gooey skin, but Hunter ignored it.

"You're good." Sam said, apparently keeping with the monosyllabic theme of the night. He didn't even make eye contact with him as he grabbed the gas from Hunter, placing it next to the bag as he fished for the matches. It bothered Hunter to the point of deep irritation, though he couldn't discern why for the life of him.

Sam lit the match with little preamble, dropping it into the fluid mess below their feet as Hunter watched on. The resulting fire lit up the grave, throwing dark shadows across the other man's face. Suddenly, he felt a wave of alertness pass through him and snapped away from the grave, knife in his hand before he'd even acknowledged the threat.

Hunter scanned the plots around him as quickly as he could, but the grounds were still empty. No sound reached him, nor any wind or scent, yet the resounding feeling of danger still surged through him wildly.

He waited, knees bent as he kept scanning. Nothing.

Nothing.

It all hit him like a freight train three seconds later as he realized he'd missed something. Sam hadn't moved behind him at all, and his breathing pattern was gone. He turned as quickly as possible, ten seconds too late.

Sam was backed up against the tree next to Andrea's grave, hand scrabbling wildly against the vicious hold against his neck. Andrea was still dressed in ghostly white, tiny hands gripping Sam so tight Hunter could see the blood vessels in Sam's eyes from where he was standing. He didn't think, leaping forward and swinging down with his knife.

The ghost split around the blade and remained, not even turning around as she continued to choke Sam. Hunter felt a wave of panic overload him as he struggled to find something to free Sam.

His eyes landed on the discarded shotgun Sam had brought, and before he knew it he raised the thing and fired. This time the ghost dissipated, screeching as the rock salt dug into her. Sam fell to the ground before Hunter could reach him. He sprinted over, throwing the shotgun to the ground as Sam's eyes rolled up into his head.

"Sammy!"

The word leapt unbidden to his lips, spoken louder and more desperately than Hunter had ever said anything. He grabbed Sam's head and raised it onto his lap, checking him over feverishly, breathing a sigh of relief as Sam gasped in a breath. His airways sounded weak but working. Small, blood soaked holes littered his right arm from where the rock salt had clipped him, but it held nothing to the marks around his neck.

They were already swelling a dark purple, pink where the skin had been broken around the edges and spanning his entire neck. His throat hadn't been crushed, thank whatever God had been looking over them, but it had been close. Ten seconds more and Hunter would've been too late.

His relief turned to concern as Sam coughed violently, jerking in his hands as the taller man tried to curl into himself, shuddering with every cough. He held Sam down, shushing him gently.

"Stay still. You're only gonna hurt yourself."

Sam's wide eyes met his, panic apparent in the wide hazel . He tried to speak, voice whispering out between coughs.

"W-what hap…pened?"

Hunter shook his head violently, anger rising up like acid inside of him. "I'll tell you what! Something went wrong! I thought you said we had to burn the remains? You could've gotten yourself killed!"

Sam looked almost cowed by his outburst, staring up at him in confusion. "Dean?"

"I'm not Dean, goddamnit!" Hunter screamed at him, anger rising. "Why didn't you tell me she might come back? You almost died!"

He finished, chest heaving as he tried to rein in his emotions. Sam seemed to snap out of it before he did, rolling painfully to his feet. He stumbled and Hunter threw out a hand before his brain could even process the movement. As soon as Sam let go he clutched it back to his side, hating the unbidden responses his body seemed to have to the other hunter.

"How long do we have until she comes back?" Hunter asked briskly, draining all emotion from his words.

Sam shrugged. "Few minutes. Gotta.." He trailed off, placing a hand on his throat. "Gotta figure out what's..tying her here."

"Like some other kind of remains?"

Sam nodded in response, picking up the shotgun. "Until we find them, we should back off from the graveyard. She might leave us alone if we don't threaten her."

"I'm done here anyways." Hunter said dismissively, grabbing his bag and stalking off. He was torn between being pissed at Sam, and, for some unfathomable reason, feeling the urge to keep his eyes on him at all times.

He heard Sam walking behind him and berated himself internally again, hating the fact that he couldn't take more than three paces without the other man's steps joining his.

* * *

A/N Leave me a review?


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